[P] Anchor me down

[Castalla]

She's kind of a legend
total infamy

While the rest of Novus slumbered beneath a blanket of stars, watched by the gleam of a silvery moon, Denocte was just waking up.

A city of a thousand flames that danced beneath the midnight blue, the lazy harmony of cheery chatter as its denizens wandered the streets. The air filled with the frosty breath of its people as winter’s kiss caressed the lips of the undying city.

Castalla watched it all; content to be but a bystander in the short lives of mortals, to watch and protect a city blessed with peace and prosperity. It was a comforting change from the fast paced life in Alanaris- training, fighting, hunting, hiding. There was a sense of relief in not holding responsibility, in knowing that it was not upon her shoulders to lead the people or set them free. Months ago she might have laughed if someone said she’d enjoy a small life, coddled by anonymity. She was born a princess, the champion of her people and saviour of her kind. A destiny promised. A destiny failed. But far from feeling inadequate, trapped by namelessness and unable to have a hoof in the higher goings on, the Wolf was enjoying the peace as she wandered through the streets of the Night Courts.

"Speaking."

⚔

@Moira <3

[Moira]

Melancholy and joy, each a potent poison, chase one another round and round over and over again. To miss another is to miss a piece of oneself, and she wonders, briefly, why she ever lets herself become weak, become vulnerable, become fond of another so that they might take the bits of her heart she guards so carefully whenever they go. And go Michael did, on a breath of wind beside her Queen once more, some far off adventure she could not take part in, to explore and to make ruins out of demons who stole their smiles so long ago.

She is but a healer.
She is the Emissary of Denocte.

Her duties are clear, and so the phoenix goes out among her people, out into the world with her wings tucked tight. Bangles laugh upon her wings, anklets gaily tinkle about her feet. Moira dons them gladly as she goes to greet those who she has not yet known. There are so many faces to know them all completely, but one or two more could be lucrative, and are necessary, to continue on despite the absences of others.

Weaving and weaving, she is a flame in the crowds with a happy smile and watchful eye. The healer girl, the Tonnerre child, at last stops beside another who stands in silent repose. There, golden eyes glance sideways, and there golden eyes remain. “Hello," comes her smoky voice, her midnight voice of cigarettes and fading dreams.

---

“speech” @Castalla <3

[Castalla]

she was a creature of war, born in chaos and forged from battle

In the brief reprieve of the quiet night, the winter world so far outside the little bubble of warmth that was Denocte, the Wolf was content to soak up the peace. She did wonder how long it would last- she was a creature of war, born in chaos and forged from battle, could she truly forsake her own nature and live a comfortable life. Once she might have said yes, when she had Skender at her side and her Kingdom stretched out below. She could have run away with him, escaped the danger of Alanaris and find somewhere safe to raise a family. But he was gone, along with any chance she had at starting a family and enjoying peace. The Tyrant King had seen to that.

But tonight was not a night to dwell on the misfortune of her past. Tonight, as the stars gleamed proudly amidst the midnight expanse and lanterns flickered merrily with a dozen little flames, it was time to simply enjoy the calm that bestowed itself upon Denocte.

Stopping at the well-lit storefront, the princess admires the beautifully crafted jewellery that gleams within. A voice permeates the quiet and the Wolf turns, a little swiftly, to find a winged woman of galaxy red. The voice is husky and polite, a golden gaze fixed upon Castalla’s pale form. Gently a smile traces its way across the scarred woman’s lips, her sapphire eyes gleaming in the lowlight.

“Hello,” she responds, dipping her head. The assassin cannot say she knows every face in Denocte (though she hopes to one day soon) she does know each of the Court’s important figures. “Moira isn’t it?”

"Speaking."

⚔

@Moira